


A Game of Quick Draw

by buspan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AM Radio station AU, Alternate universe - radio talk show, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a radio host (Good Omens), Aziraphale is done with Gabriel's shit, Crowley is at least enough of a bastard to be worth knowing, DO NOT try this at work kids, Fluff, M/M, Rated Teen for swears, Revenge involving elaborate rewiring of a radio station
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 20:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20512895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buspan/pseuds/buspan
Summary: After a near-miss with a foul-mouthed caller, Aziraphale decides it's time to demonstrate to his boss, Gabriel, why they need to set up their station properly."Aziraphale had tried, he truly had, to get Gabriel to set up the dump button properly, giving it at least a 10 second buffer between what was said and what was broadcast. He had tried again after the anonymous caller had neatly gotten them into legal trouble. Now he had decided to take matters into his own hands, and if he did this right, Gabriel might just get the message."





	A Game of Quick Draw

**Author's Note:**

> Note: radio broadcasting doesn’t actually work like this irl, [there's a delay between what is said and what gets broadcast,](https://www.reddit.com/r/explainlikeimfive/comments/1n6gsz/eli5_how_does_the_dump_button_in_radio_work/) but for this story, the entire broadcast system at the radio station Aziraphale works at was set up rather incompetently, so he has to be quick on the dump button at all times because there is no delay between what people say and when it gets broadcast.

“... And so in light of last week where I dumped that one anonymous caller just before they swore, I’ve decided to test my skill on the dump button.” Aziraphale spun in his chair leaving only fractions of a second of dead air, and only barely tangling himself in his headphone cord. “We’re going to play a game of quick draw here on 870 Heaven AM. Here’s how it’s going to work: you out there in the listening world will call in and try to say a swear word and I’m going to try to hit the dump button before you say anything the good folks at the FCC would object to. If you’re confused, pull up George Carlin’s seven dirty words, it’s always a good place to start!” The board was already lighting up. He put a quick little instrumental bit he’d composed for the occasion and went to check that the barricade on his studio door was holding up.

Aziraphale had tried, he truly had, to get Gabriel to set up the dump button properly, giving it at least a 10 second buffer between what was said and what was broadcast. He had tried again after the anonymous caller had neatly gotten them into legal trouble. Now he had decided to take matters into his own hands, and if he did this right, Gabriel might just get the message.

It had taken him days to set this up. Aziraphale had taken a page out of his boyfriend’s book for this one, specifically _Practical Electronics for Pirate Radio: Setting up and Maintaining your own Independent Radio Station_. Following a series of complicated instructions, he had rewired the broadcast controls outside his studio to a switch under his desk so that he could shut the main controls off at will. He then set up his own broadcast controls with the old equipment that the station kept in the storage room. (He had told his boss that he was experimenting with old sound mixing techniques and Gabriel was none the wiser. That holier-than-thou sucker wouldn’t know the difference between broadcasting equipment and audio mixing equipment because he was too busy being a self-righteous asshat to learn.) Then he rewired the call board to his studio (“It would be so much easier for you if I took care of the calls from now on,” he had told Gabriel. “Goodness knows you work too hard already”). After what seemed like kilometers of cable wired through hundreds of metres of drop ceiling, and two minor electric shocks, he had made it. The best part was that if they wanted to shut down his little game, they would have to wade through the storage room (which Aziraphale had made a mess of while setting up) to get to the switchbox (which had never even been labeled) and shut off power to the whole building.

As a side benefit, maybe this would make Gabriel look into getting the dump button set up properly with a good delay between what people said calling in and what was broadcast, like every other radio station. But first this would at least be, just a little bit, fun.

The instrumental wrapped up just as he put his headphones back on and sat back down.

“Alright, I’m starting a timer, you all have 1 minute to get me in trouble with the FCC.” He got his finger ready over the dump button. “Caller 1, you’re on the air!” sing-songing, he pressed the button to put the first caller through.

“Fu--” dumped.

“Oh, my dear, you’re going to have to try harder than that.” Aziraphale felt a rush of adrenaline as he put the next caller through. “Caller 2--”

“Sh--” caller 2 was dispatched even faster.

He was laughing now, peaking the audio unpleasantly, but he didn’t care. This was exhilarating.

“Ok, we’re 15 seconds in, and no one’s even made a dent. Come on, listeners, I expected better of you!” he hit the next button. “Caller 3?”

“Aziraphale,” a familiar voice. “What are you trying to do?”

“Anathema?” She usually called in to talk about some conspiracy or another. Aziraphale had struck up a weird sort of friendship with her in their past conversations on air.

“Of course, you idiot! Are you trying to get in trouble?” she said

“Aww come on, I’m just having a little fun. Are you calling to play?”

He could hear her smile through the phone. “Of course I am, you little bas--” dumped. This time he had the presence of mind to hit the cough button before giggling shrilly.

“That was a good try Anathema, you almost had me, dear girl,” he took a pause to snort. “Close, but no cigar.”

Someone rattled the doorknob and pounded on his studio door. “Ooh, listeners, I don’t know if you can hear this at home, but there’s someone trying to break into my studio! We’re going to be fine. I’ve barricaded it so well. This is amazing! We have 25 seconds to go! Caller 4, you are on the air.”

“Aziraphale, what in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” Gabriel was on the line. He wasn’t yelling yet, but his voice sounded strained, like the air in a balloon escaping through a pinhole.

“Oh, hi boss! Great game, huh? Wanna play?” he leaned back in his chair trying not to laugh.

“Do you realize how much trouble you’re in? I’m going to have your a--” he had to reach for it this time, nearly falling out of his chair to slam his hand down in time. He recovered, and his cell phone started ringing. It was Gabriel again. He turned it off. The banging on the studio door redoubled. “Ooh, I’m sure you can hear that now, listeners! We still have 10 seconds on the clock. Caller 5, you are live."

“Hello Aziraphale,” said Crowley.

“Crowley! To what do I owe the pleasure, my dear?”

“I’m just calling in to say hi to my boyfriend. I’m also wondering if you want to come over to my place tonight.”

“Crowley, dear, I’m on air now, can we discuss later,” Aziraphale already knew that this wasn’t an option.

“Come on, Angel. Please? We could watch a movie, I’ll make dinner--” Crowley was being disarmingly sweet. Aziraphale should have expected something, but the saying about hindsight exists for a reason. “--And then we can fuck.”

There was dead air for a whole three seconds before Crowley spoke again. “Well, I think that means that I’ve won your game, and I wasn’t super clear on what the prize was, but I think I’ll take it off the air. Love you Angel.”

Aziraphale shrieked and went to commercial. The pounding on the door was getting louder now and the barricade was starting to come apart. He could hear Gabriel yell something that was definitely not radio friendly about what he would do when broke down the goddamn door. “Well, I’m fucked,” he said to no one in particular.

Laughter came from the phone line. “I’ll say,” said Crowley.

“Fat lot of good you’re doing to help me,” Aziraphale said. If he tore down the barrier and opened the door now, it wasn’t like Gabriel would go any easier on him, but at least it would be over with sooner.

“I’m on the fire escape right now. If you pop out the window you should be able to make it to me.”

“I hate you, just a little bit, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m saving you as best I can. You’re a bit lucky I was in the area. We can make it if you run.”

“fine, I’m coming.” he dropped the call and ran to the window. Crowley gave him a hand maneuvering to the fire escape then they bolted down the rusty ladders of the fire escape and into the waiting Bentley.

They peeled out of the parking lot, Crowley driving like a bat out of hell and Aziraphale laughing like a maniac. 

The Bentley's radio was still tuned to 870 Heaven AM. The barricade had managed to heroically hold on until the final toothpaste jingle finished. Then Gabriel came on live mid-rant. 

“So that's your boss, right?” said Crowley after changing the station. Queen’s “Good old-fashioned lover boy” filled the car instead.

“Yeah,” said Aziraphale.

“He seems like an asshole.” Crowley paused. “Doesn't he know he's not supposed to swear on the radio?”

“Hang on a sec. You were listening to my show. Before you came in, you were listening.”

“Umk, so what?”

“It's so sweet to know that you listen to my show.”

“Shut up.”

Aziraphale smiled and put his hand on Crowley's thigh. He only pulled closer as Crowley swerved for a second on the empty highway and then corrected the car. They drove into the night until they were sure that 870 Heaven AM would be nothing but garbled static.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you liked it, drop me a Kudos or Comment


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